Imagine you look to your left, your right, before you, behind you, and all you can see are the thousands of people plodding onward into an unknown future. It’s a surreal feeling—you are leaving Egypt, the only home you have ever known, that anyone in your family has known for the past 400 years. You are leaving your job as a brick-maker, the only thing that ever gave you value in the world. And strangest of all, you are being led by a something so odd, you think your eyes must be playing tricks on you—a giant column of a cloud, which at night glows like fire. When it stops, your entire Israelite group stops and makes camp. When it moves, and where it moves, you pack up and follow.
The whispers start to spread around camp one night, speculating about what even is this thing, as you nervously watch it in the distance. Glowing and waiting – almost like a shepherd watching over a flock. People start to remember some echoes of a story, a story passed down from generation to generation, nearly forgotten, like a candle about to go out. When you hear it, your heart beats faster and you immediately forget the weariness you’ve been carrying: “This isn’t the first time that the God of our people appeared like this”.
You lean in close as you hear the story retold. The one chosen by God, Abraham, was also fleeing Egypt, and was in a place of doubt. He was losing faith that he could continue to trust God’s promise to him. Abraham asked God for proof—some reason why he could continue to believe. God responded in a strange way—that Abraham should set up a marriage covenant.
And so Abraham did as he was instructed—gathering animals together and sacrificing them, using them to create a path. He knew what happened next. Two parties would take turns walking down this path of dead animals, declaring that “If I do not hold up my end of the promise, I deserve to be like these animals”.
Abraham knew that it was now his turn. The less powerful party would walk first, followed by the more powerful party. But Abraham tarried. Maybe he was feeling the weight of what it would mean to make a promise with the One who placed the stars in the sky. As he waited, Abraham fell asleep.
He awoke with a start to a blazing light (could it have been the same one lingering over our camp right now?), and it was going down the path. It was as if God were saying “I promise to be your God, and you will be my people. If either one of us doesn’t hold up our end of the promise, I will become like these animals. I will pay the price”.
The talk in camp dies down as people head off to sleep, but you lie awake pondering these things, the light of the fire ever-present in the distance. After 400 years of slavery and silence, are we really being saved by the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob? And could it be that this strange, mysterious force leading us and protecting us also cares for us, enough to make this marriage promise for us?
Over a thousand years later, there was another family fleeing Egypt. This family arrived in Bethlehem, and a light in the sky again acted as a guide. But this time the light was guiding God’s faithful not to a place, but to a person. The Israelites had been again waiting 400 years in silence, waiting to be saved by the promised Messiah, the one God would send to reign on King David’s throne forever. And he was here. His name is Jesus. He would say about himself “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life (John 8:12).” Could he be that same light from all those years ago?
And ultimately, Jesus fulfills God’s promise that when we fall short of being God’s people, he would take the punishment and pay the price that we should have paid.
And so this Advent, we remember that the long-expected Jesus, this Light of the World, is worth following after. By his light, all other things become clear. The Light of the World, who God has sent, lights up the darkness in our world around us, and the darkness in ourselves. This Light of the World ultimately guides us to the peace that our wandering hearts have been longing for.
References: Exodus 13, Genesis 12, Genesis 15, John 8:12
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Editor’s Note: Whether he walked with Adam and Eve in the Garden, spoke to Moses through the burning bush, led the Israelites through the wilderness, or let his presence dwell in the Tabernacle, our God has always shown his desire to have a relationship with his people. These instances found in the Old Testament, amazing as they are, are only shadows of what would come when Jesus was born in Bethlehem. Each meeting brought us a step closer on the journey to Bethlehem, to the arrival of our Savior.
Each week in our Advent reflections, we’ll take a look at one of the ways God drew near to his people leading up to Jesus’s birth.
